Sheer Will
by WinterElle
Summary: Sam and Dean, in the midst what seems like a routine hunt, run across something new under the sun...to them anyway. The result is a moral dilemma and questions about what qualifies as a monster.
1. Chapter 1

Dean had to admit he was baffled. He wouldn't admit that out loud, but he could own it in his head. He rubbed gritty eyes with one hand and wondered how long he'd been driving. Sam had given in, somewhere along the way, and wasn't exactly the picture of dignity with his face smashed against the passenger side window as he slept.

_Where the hell are we, anyway?_ Worse yet, he couldn't remember where they were going, or even where they'd been. It was night and Dean was driving like a bat out of hell with no destination and nothing chasing them…at least not that he knew of. The thing that clenched his gut was that he didn't know why and couldn't seem to bring himself to stop.

"Her grip is fading with distance. Just keep driving for now, Dean." Castiel's deep, dry voice filled the silence from the back seat and Dean nearly jumped out of his skin.

"I will never get used to that." Dean mumbled to himself before meeting Cas' eyes in the rear view mirror.

"Right. Drive. Been doing that for hours I think. Sure, can do. No worries. _But what the hell? _It's not like I can _stop _driving."

"What do you remember?"

Dean took a deep breath casting back as far as he could over the last few hours as he tried to remember. He thought his recall landed somewhere at the beginning.

Hunting. They'd been hunting. He was willing to bet on that.

Details leached back as memories started to run together.

"I remember rumors of patients in an ICU where people had started having unexplained blood loss right before death. Some friend of Sam's made the call and we headed for Georgia."

He watched Castiel grimace in the mirror at him and lean back in the seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Good. Start there." He hated it when Cas got that know-it-all look, but he was sure there was a good reason. Cas always had a point. He trusted the guy that much.

"What did you find?"

There was more fog to navigate, but eventually Dean started filling in the blanks. Cas was right. The more he drove, the easier pulling details became.

"When we got there, we learned that the hospital was rumored to be haunted. Doors closing, objects moving. That sort of thing. We thought an angry spirit at first."

Dean went on, telling the story as the pieces began to slot together.

"We pulled in somewhere after midnight and headed straight for the ICU where Sam's friend worked. Unfortunately, we were just in time for the latest body. It was an old guy. He'd been dying slowly of liver failure, I think. By the end, though, the docs were baffled because he reached the end of his road much more quickly than they expected. Just examining the body, one official decided that rather than the organ failure they had been expecting, his cause of death was blood loss."

Dean and his brother had swept the room, the ICU and the entire area in search of anything unusual and found nothing. But Sam spotted a stray smeared bloody fingerprint on the windowsill of the fourth floor window of the dead man's room.

"Bad table manners, you think?" Sam asked, rubbing the nearly dried blood between his thumb and forefinger with a satisfied grin.

_Damned vampires._

Having lived through spending a few hours as one himself, Dean hated the very thought of vamps. Finding one that was preying on the already sick and helpless made him want blood, too.

Close inspection and some good, old fashioned tracking skills-_Bobby would be so proud_- led them to finding tracks four stories down outside the last victim's window. As the sun came up, Dean and Sam were checking out possible nests for the thing that killed the old man two miles from the hospital. The trail had turned cold, but they scanned the residential area scoping for buildings, sheds or homes in general with windows covered to block the sun. That was a good indicator that vamps were inside.

They came across a home with several storage sheds in the yard, each with a padlock hanging on the outside to stop trespassers. The last one, though, a white cinder block storage building, had two small windows that were blacked out and it was locked from the inside. _Dead giveaway. Literally_.

Sam, his right arm still in the sling, wielded a long knife with his left hand. Dean, with machete ready for separating heads from shoulders, crouched at the door and was prepared to shoulder it open when a quiet voice from behind him broke the early morning silence.

"Hi guys. Can I help you with something?"

Dean spun, still crouched, hiding the long knife behind his thigh.

The voice came from a tall, lean woman in her thirties watching them with a smile and her arms crossed over her chest. The rising sun, from Dean's angle, struck her from behind and caused what looked for a second like a glowing aura all around her lean frame.

Dean cleared his throat, rising from the crouch. _Couldn't be a vamp, she was standing in the sun. _

Thinking fast, he reached for his pocket and flashed an ID at the woman quickly enough that he knew she'd never be able to read it.

Smiling warily, Dean said, "Yes, ma'am. We're with the City. Pest control. It looks like there might be a rat infestation in this building. Is it yours?"

The woman shivered expressively as she smiled.

"Rats. Yuck." She shifted where she stood and he noticed for the first time that she wore black scrub clothes like a nurse would wear.

"Thank god you guys are around for things like that."

"But no, it's not mine." She gestured toward a gray house a few yards away. "My neighbors' building, but I'm not surprised, honestly. They've done stuff like this before."

She leaned around Dean and smiled at Sam, who was now innocently leaned against the white painted cinder block building.

"I bet you'll want to talk to them, but they're not home yet." She glanced at a silver watch and Dean noticed that her blue eyes danced like she was laughing when they met his again. "They work the night shift, like I do, but aren't home yet. It'll be another hour or so."

Dean shrugged, ready to politely send her away so they could get back to business, when she spoke again.

"Listen, it's cold and I'm starved after working all night. There's no reason you two should have to stand out here waiting in the cold for them to get home to read them the riot act over how badly they maintain their property. Why don't you guys come in for some fresh coffee and a slice of homemade pumpkin pie? I just made it yesterday."

Dean wanted to do the brush off, smile politely and disappear with Sam to return when she was out of sight, _but for some reason he couldn't_. Instead, he heard himself agreeing while Sam's eyes went wide with surprise.

"Great, follow me." She flashed a warm smile at them, her dark, curled hair bouncing around her shoulders. She turned toward a small white cottage a few yards away, leading the way.

"I'm Noelle, by the way." She told them with her back to them.

"I'm Dean, this is Sam."

As she moved a few yards ahead of them, Sam came up beside Dean, his eyes wide and wary, his voice hushed.

"What in heaven's name _are you doing_, Dean?" He whispered under his breath.

Dean didn't know how to answer that. He had no idea where this was headed or why he was going along with it. There was no plan, but he was committed now, so he shrugged.

"What, man? She has pie." It sounded like the answer to every question. For Dean there were days when it was. Simple pleasures. But today shouldn't have been one of those days.

Sam shook his head, his expression confused. Regardless of what he thought, though, like Dean, he was following the woman back to her home.

"We've got work to do." Sam hissed at him.

"Yeah, and it can wait for a few. That thing's not going anywhere with the sunrise, anyway."

They followed Noelle into a small, neat little cottage and were comfortably seated at a little two tone wooden table in her warm kitchen with strong, fresh coffee and warm pumpkin pie topped with whip cream. If not for being uncertain how he'd ended up there, Dean would've thought he was in heaven.

When she sat in the chair beside him, she folded a leg under her and said, "So, tell me why you're really here."

Dean wanted to sputter out a nice lie, but none would come. Instead, although he tried to stop it, the truth came out.

"We're following what looks like a nasty vamp. Much worse than rats, trust me"

Dean wasn't the least bit prepared to have the we're-not-crazy conversation, but between he and Sam, the whole story came out while Noelle nodded, gasped or gestured encouragingly for them to continue. After another hour, the two of them had spilled the details of their lives for this stranger like two eight year old girls called to the principal's office.

Dean noticed that while she wasn't a great beauty, there was a warmth about her when she laughed, when she smiled that gave him glimpses of how she'd been a beauty once.

As she turned, the light from the window glanced off the side of her face and Dean froze.

The woman noticed and mirrored his action, her eyes wide. "What's wrong?"

"Your eyes." When she'd been outside, they were blue. Now, the light danced off of dark brown orbs that shone with wariness.

She smiled after a breath.

"Changed color?"

"Yeah. They were bright blue outside. Now they're dark brown."

"Caught me." She shrugged widely. "You're observant. I'll give you that." Her back had straightened and the warmth he'd noticed in her before seemed to leach away into caution.

"What are….?" He wanted to ask her what she was, but the question wouldn't make sense if he was wrong.

"What am I?" She angled her head, studying him and then Sam. "That question doesn't have an easy answer."

After a second, with Dean fighting to reach for and wrap his hand around the hilt of the machete in his pocket, she smiled again and he found his interest in the weapon gone.

"But you've been honest with me, so I'll try. It would be easier to show you than tell you." Noelle laid her bare right arm flat up on the table and reached across the narrow table with her left to lay her fingers against Sam's injured right arm at the elbow.

Sam moved as if to shift away from her touch and she said, "No. Be still. This won't hurt. I can help." Dark pink lips twisted into a grimace for a second and she smiled again.

"Well, this won't hurt you, anyway."

Sam went still, his eyes when they met Dean's looked a little wild for a second before they became even wider, locked on her bare right arm on the table.

Purpling bruises appeared, just below her elbow, but she kept her hand laid against Sam's broken arm. The bruises grew and spread before a wet snap sound echoed in the kitchen. Just below the elbow, Noelle's right arm lay twisted at an unnatural angle.

Noelle was silent, her face white and dark brown eyes had shifted to bright green and were glazed with pain.

Sam took her left hand with his.

"What did you do?"

The woman let out a shaky breath before the pain glazing her now moss green eyes disappeared.

"I took it." Pulling her hand from his, she laid it flat on the table. "No worries."

The eyes closed, her hand flat on the table. The broken arm shimmered in the sunlight across the table and they heard a groaning crack from the table beneath them. When the sound ended, the bruises and unnatural angle of her arm were back to what they had been before.

Sam moved, shifting his shoulder and then his arm.

"It's gone. The pain, all of it. How the hell?"

Noelle had healed Sam's broken arm. Dean had never seen anything that could heal except an angel. And angels just laid a glowing hand on someone. He'd never seen anything like this.


	2. Chapter 2

Sheer Will

Chapter 2

Sam sat, working clumsily at the cast he wore under the sling of his right arm with a large pair of gardening shears that Noelle had fetched for him. After watching his brother struggle for a few minutes with a grin, Dean took pity and stood, taking the tool from his brother.

Sam was pretty much useless with his left hand. It just hung there usually, like a decoration. Intricate work, like not killing himself with sharp objects while using his left hand was nearly impossible for the guy.

Noelle had skillfully shifted the topic to removing the cast, probably intending to avoid questions, but Dean had plenty of those.

As he worked, Dean directed his questions to her without looking up.

"So, let me get this straight. You're a healer that kills people?"

Noelle choked, in the middle of a swig of her coffee while she watched them.

Sputtering loudly, she set the coffee down, cleared her throat and said, "Of course not. I eat pumpkin pie. And hamburgers. And anything else any human would eat. Except lima beans." She smiled and shuddered to illustrate her apparent distaste for the last item on her list.

Sam caught Dean's line of thought, watching Noelle closely while Dean worked.

"So what about the trail from the hospital and a dead guy that led straight to your door?" Sam asked, one brow up.

Dean swung a look that mirrored his brother on her, waiting for an answer.

"No. That wasn't me." Her tone spoke volumes as she shrugged and stood, gathering empty coffee cups to refill.

"But you know who it was, then?" Sam asked.

Noelle turned, at the question, leaning wearily against the counter. Dean guessed that healing Sam had tapped some of her strength.

"Yes. And although it's small consolation, that man was dying and impatient to be done with his battle to live. He wanted out." Arms crossed over her chest, her tone sad, her stance defensive.

"How could you possibly know that?" Dean asked, turning his attention again to the cast removal.

"Empath. I know what others are feeling if I try. And sometimes even if I don't try. It just nearly knocks me down at times, like with you two. Here's my chance to tell you that you two are a whirly, swirly mess of anger, pain, determination and brotherly love. Do you two _ever_ talk? Emo much, guys?"

Dean opened his mouth to defend them both and closed it again. She had it dead on, actually. How could he argue? Instead, he halted her effort to change the subject.

"So, back to my original question. What are you?"

Noelle shrugged, turning back to the coffee.

"If I knew for sure, I'd tell you." She sighed heavily as she sat again, replacing their coffee.

"It rains when I cry. It storms when I'm angry. The wind blows when I call it. I absorb the pain and injuries of others and can push it into something organic. I feel the emotions of people around me, so much so that I have to hide away sometimes. Working as a nurse, in a hospital, can be torture, I tell ya."

Castiel's dry voice from the back seat snapped Dean back to the present abruptly.

"We call her kind stewards."

"Oh, great. Another angel of some kind?" Cause heaven knew Dean needed more of those, since angels in general weren't already a pain in his ass.

Castiel grimaced in the mirror again as he said, "Not _angel_ exactly."

"Okay, man, no more cryto-speak. Are they good or bad?"

"It all depends. They have free will, like any human. Some use their power to build up creation around them. Others use it to tear down. And they're not human, not really. Niagara Falls, the Grand Canyon and the entire city of New York are just a few of their contributions. They are what happen when you cross the lines of a fallen angel and a natural witch. Witches have very strong wills. Angels have very strong faith. When you combine the two, well….that can equal massive amounts of raw power. In the beginning, with the first fall from heaven, there were millions of them, families passing their power from one female to another. Over time, they sank into despair and left the earth and humans to their own ways. There are only 10 family lines of them left now. They are God's hands and feet, shaping creation, fine tuning it, if you will. They blend with humans so well that running across one is very unusual."

"So you've never met one?"

"Thankfully, no." Castiel's grimace shifted to a full blown scowl. "Historically, it's not a pleasant experience to get caught up in the will of one of those creatures. It doesn't usually end well."

"End how, exactly?"

Cas didn't have the skill for shifting conversation when the answers made him uncomfortable, so Dean watched his image in the rearview mirror as he stared at the floorboard of the car for a second instead.

"I interrupted your story. Please. Go on."

Dean knew Cas well enough to know when asking questions was pointless. From his tone, Castiel made Dean think that the answer to his question was somewhere in the memories that were coming back a little more quickly now.

Sam, never one to let go, had leaned expressively over the table, getting straight to the point with the questions for Noelle.

"So who drinks blood?" .

She met Sam's eyes and drew a shaky breath before she nodded in the direction of the cinder block building where they'd been before they met her.

"That's my mate."


End file.
